ROTHKO, ICE CREAM, AND SOPHIA LOREN

"Don't, I'm going to get sand in my hair!"
"Wow, sand in your hair. The bane of the civilised world."
"Yea well, it is...kind of. Takes ages to get that stuff out. It clings."
"Jeez."
Silence.
"So what do you love about the beach?"
"Apart from the scantily clad bodies."
"Apart from the scantily clad bodies."
"Flat lines. Horizons. The Rothko scenery."
"Ice cream?"
"Yea, and ice cream. Rothko and ice cream."
"A neapolitan then?"
"God. Haven't seen one of those in years."
"Nostalgia?"
"No. Always hated them. Pink, yellow, and brown. Who thought that one up?"
"A Neapolitan?"
"Doubt it. They have much more style than to come up with badly striped ice cream!"
Silence.
"Sophia Loren."
"What?"
"Sophia Loren. She's a Neapolitan."
"Yea. That's right. Love her."
Silence.
"So."
"So."
"What you love about the beach is Rothko, ice cream, and Sophia Loren."
"Ha! Kind of, yes. Eclectic, baby."
"But not sand."
"Love sand. But on the beach, not in my hair."
So with that a hand came from nowhere and dunked his hair in the sand.
"Fuck! Sand head. I told you!"
A laugh, a shrug, a sigh.
"First world problems."